I’m just a coyote who ranges alone
I must move on and on lest my presence be known
By those who would hurt me and invade my home
So I’m doomed forever to roam… just roam
I wander over the great Southwest
To you I seem free! Just another roving pest
But, tho’ I’m a gypsy by every action and deed
Sorrow grows in my heart like a terrible weed
Each day brings new sadness, for I’m hated by all
Even cast out by my own… Who each night I call
As I cry in the moonlight, my muzzle to the sky
I wonder… who else… feels the same as I?
Aren’t we all, somehow, the same in a way?
Don’t we all look for happiness day after day?
So if I should awaken you in the dead of some night
With a mournful how lab out my plight…
Think of me as your heart… cryin’ that night!
If you liked this poem – you’ll love some of the others as well as the stories from my first book “True Stories and Rhymes from the Range”